“Nicky, hello. I had no idea you were coming.” Claudette greets me in her French-accented English. She leans in to kiss both my cheeks. Her cool gaze lands on Calliope. Judgment flickers in her eyes. “Where have you been, you naughty boy? It’s been too long. I’ve missed you.” Her hand lingers too long on my chest.
“Hello.” I pull Calliope closer to me, moving away from Claudette’s touch. “Claudette, I’d like you to meet Calliope. She’ll be staying here tonight as my guest.”
“Oh, I see.” Her lids lower to hide her thoughts. She extends a hand to Calliope. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Calliope.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.” The two women shake hands. Calliope’s smile is warm and accepting, despite Claudette’s impudent stare.
Henry and Everly head to their accommodations for some alone time. Roman and Rourke follow Milada. The teenager halts in front of us, flipping sand all over my shoes. “Hey. I know you.” She scrunches her nose at Calliope. “You’re the girl in the handcuffs.”
A deep red blush climbs up Calliope’s neck and settles in her cheeks. To her credit, she recovers quickly. “Um, yeah. That was me. Nice to see you again.”
Milada’s attention flits back to me. Her ponytail swishes behind her. “My birthday is next week, Uncle Nicky, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Seeing her healthy and whole is the best gift I’ve ever received. Everything I’ve done, the hell I’ve endured—it was worth it. “Really?” I arch an eyebrow, amused by her impudence.
“You’re not getting a Porsche,” Roman interjects.
Milada scowls, her gray gaze narrowing at me. “You told him?”
“He forced it out of me.” I spread my hands in a gesture of surrender. “You know how he is.”
“Great.” The dramatic roll of her eyes causes everyone to laugh. “I already told all my friends.”
“Well, you’ll just have to untell them.” Roman gives her a squeeze, hugging her into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Now, let’s all go up to the main house. We need to talk.”
We gather around the long outdoor dining table. The staff deliver a tray of fresh fruit and cheeses. Milada and her mother sit across from me. Calliope’s at my side. Beneath the table, her hand rests on my thigh. Having her here comforts me in ways I never expected. No matter what happens with Milada, Calliope will have my back. I brace myself for the worst possible scenarios. Tears, anger, or rejection. Possibly all three. And it’s no more than I deserve.
Roman starts the conversation. “Milada, we need to have a conversation. I want you to listen with an open heart, okay?”
Her gray gaze bounces from her father to her stepmother and back again. “Am I in trouble? If it’s about the police that night at Uncle Nicky’s—”
“What police?” Roman’s growls.
“No. There were no police.” I shoot Milada a warning glare and wave my hands.
“What’s going on?” Claudette’s mouth presses into a tight line. “Shouldn’t we discuss this first, in private? After all, she’s my child, too.”
“She needs to know the truth about us,” Roman says. He jerks his head toward me. “All three of us.”
Milada sucks her lower lip between her teeth. Her eyes narrow. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “Is this about Uncle Nicky? Being my father? Because I already know about that.” She reaches for a pineapple square and pops it into her mouth. “Mom told me a long time ago.”
“You know?” My voice is higher than normal. Calliope’s fingers dig into my thigh. “And you never said anything?”
“Why would I?” She shrugs then returns to the fruit plate for some papaya. “I’m not stupid. I’ve got a pretty good deal going.”
Relief eases the tension I’ve been carrying around for the past sixteen years. Roman laughs, a hearty belly laugh, something I haven’t heard from him in ages. Rourke smiles, too. Calliope bites her lower lip.
Claudette rolls her eyes. “Of course, I told her. She’s too smart to hide things from. If I left it up to the two of you, she’d be in the dark forever.”
“Are you okay?” Roman ignores Claudette, focusing his attention on Milada. “Do you have questions for us?”
“Not really.” Milada shrugs, her ponytail swinging behind her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around much while you were small. It was in your best interest at the time.” The confession is difficult. I clear my throat, trying to remain in control of the relief and gratitude growing in my chest. “But I’d like to spend more time with you in the future, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” By now, she has a pile of food on her plate. “Will you teach me to drive? Mom can’t drive. I’d ask Dad, but he yells too much.”
I glance at Roman then Claudette, waiting for their input. They both nod. “If it’s okay with your parents, I’d love that.”
“Cool.” She fidgets in the seat. “Can I go now?”
Roman nods. “Sure.”
Milada takes her plate of food and skips off in the direction of the chef’s teenaged son. The rest of us share a collective sigh of relief. I have a daughter. A daughter. I keep repeating the words in my head. No more lies. No more dark, dirty secret. The truth has set me free. Calliope smiles up at me like she can feel my happiness. For the first time in my life, I have a sense of hope for the future.
Twenty-Four
Calliope
We spend the rest of the day sunning on the beach, sipping fruity drinks, and soaking in the peace of the island. Roman and Rourke wander off to snorkel. Nicky and Milada play frisbee in the sand and make plans to begin her driving lessons when they return to the city. Watching them together brings a smile to my face. Their laughter floats like music on the ocean breeze. They’re so much alike. Nicky moves slowly, wincing now and then from the pain of his ribs, but he makes a valiant effort to keep her entertained. I love watching him like this, carefree and happy.
Sitting here with the wind ruffling my hair and the sand squishing between my bare toes, the horrors of the past weeks seem like a bad dream. My thoughts keep drifting to the future. I can’t return to Ohio. Too much has changed. I’m not the same person that I was. A fly lands on my towel. I flick him away, filled with envy at his sense of purpose. I have no idea where I’ll go or what to do with the rest of my life.
“How long have you been in love with him?” Claudette sits down beside me, stretching her tanned legs in front of us and crossing them at the ankles.
“Um, excuse me?” Her patronizing tone raises the hackles on the back of my neck.
“Nicky. You look at him with big puppy dog eyes.” She tosses her shiny hair then leans back on her elbow, showing the taut stretch of her flat belly.
“It’s not like that.” But maybe it is. My attachment to him grows stronger with each passing day. And it’s going to hurt like hell when we go our separate ways.
“I hope you like heartbreak, because Nicky is the master.” With her eyes closed, she tilts her face to the sun. “He will reel you in, but when it’s time to commit, he’ll leave you like his feet are on fire.” When I don’t reply, she keeps talking. “He’s so intelligent. Much too intelligent for someone like you. Don’t be offended. It’s just a fact. He’s too smart for me, too. Half the time, I have no idea what he’s talking about. Did you know he’s the youngest person to pass the New York bar exam?” She cracks an eyelid to gauge my reaction then closes it with a satisfied smirk. “He’ll never settle down, but if he does, it will be some high society woman with a giant bank account and big tits.”
I don’t say anything. Mostly because I don’t owe her any explanations. And partly because I have a feeling she’s right. A few yards away, he drags his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He’s an awesome display of rippling abs and biceps. His new beard lends his beautiful face a fierce edge. If I’m honest with myself, I want him in my life. I want to be the woman who holds his heart. He catches my gaze and s
miles. The reaction jolts straight between my clenched thighs.
Later, we gather around the outdoor dining table for a shared meal. Roman, Nicky, and Henry tell amusing tales about their days in college. Their hearty laughter booms across the glassy surface of the swimming pool. Rourke and Everly talk about how they met their husbands. I listen, fascinated by the shared dynamics of these people. Although they argue and fuss, they seem like a real family, something I’ve never had, and the realization makes me sad. Maybe I should reconsider my solitary future.
Afterward, Nicky walks with me down the path to my bungalow. The tropical leaves cast flickering shadows in the torchlight. An air of comfortable awareness stretches between us. He holds my hand, his fingers threaded through mine. And I like it. I like it more than anything. When this ends, I’m going to be heartbroken.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.” The sound of his voice resonates through me, deep and rich. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Fine.” I avoid his gaze as we climb the steps to our open-air bedroom. He halts outside the threshold.
“The helicopter will take us to the airport tomorrow. I’m flying back to Manhattan. Where would you like to go? I’ll make the arrangements for you.”
I should be eager to return to the real world, but I’m not. By now, I’ve been fired from my job. The thought of my empty apartment fills me with sadness. I have nothing and no one. No reason to return to Ohio. But isn’t that what I wanted? The freedom to walk away from commitment and obligation? “Okay. Thanks.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, glancing down at the floor, embarrassed by my circumstances. “I don’t really have anywhere to go. Any suggestions?”
He rests his head against the doorjamb, staring down at me with an intensity that stirs butterflies in my belly. “New York City is a good place to start over.”
“I suppose so.” Suddenly, being around him makes me nervous. I rub my sweaty palms over my hips. If he looks closely, he’ll see my angst, and I can’t let him know about my silly crush. This isn’t me. I’m tough. My heart is encased in steel, impervious to love and other pointless emotions. But not this time. Not with him. He’s changed everything in the best possible ways.
He brushes the hair from my eyes. His fingertips sweep along my cheek, come to a rest beneath my chin, and tilt my face up to his. “Well, you should get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The bed is big and lonely without him in it. Before Valentina, I treasured my privacy and independence. I smooth a hand over the cool sheets, wishing Nicky were beside me with his big feet, hard body, and massive cock. I’ve fallen for him—hard. How is that possible? We’ve known each other less than a month. No one falls in love over three weeks of captivity. He’s my kidnapper. I should hate him, but I don’t. I’m in love with him.
In the morning, there are hugs and promises to keep in touch from Rourke and Everly. Roman and Henry shake my hand. Milada hugs Nicky so hard that it causes a lump to form in my throat. He remains stoic as we board the helicopter and then Roman’s private jet. He’s silent the entire flight. When it comes time to commit, he’ll run like his feet are on fire. Claudette’s words echo in my head. Is that what he’s doing? Pulling away?
While I pretend to read a magazine, he holds meetings and makes phone calls in an effort to catch up on his work. I watch him from beneath my lashes. As he talks to someone on his laptop, he rubs the backs of his fingers over his beard. Not so long ago, he caressed my bare skin the same way. A pulse of need makes my pussy clench. I shift positions, crossing and uncrossing my legs to lessen the ache. Sensing my stare, his gaze flicks up to mine. A flash of heat rises up my neck and settles in my face.
“How long until we land?” he asks the flight attendant.
“We’ll begin our final descent in about fifteen minutes, sir.” The flirtatious smile on her face suggests she finds him attractive. Of course, she does. His navy suit fits him to perfection. Our time in the sun gave his skin a bronzed glow. Streaks of gold highlight his dark brown hair. I’m jealous of every woman who ever touched him because he’s mine. Mine.
Without another word, he closes his laptop, stands, and heads for me. My pulse climbs as the distance shrinks between us. When he reaches my side, he extends a hand. On instinct, I slide my palm over his. The glide of my skin against his makes my panties dampen. I follow him to the back.
We’re in a bedroom. I only have a flash of luxurious bedding, neutral colors, before I’m pinned against the wall by his big body. He sweeps my hair over my shoulder and sucks the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His hands roam over my breasts and hips, dragging my shorts down to cup my pussy.
“I want you, Jones,” he whispers in my ear. His breath burns my skin. “Open your legs for me.”
“Hurry.” I’m desperate to have him inside me one last time. I unzip his fly. He’s hard and ready. His pulse echoes in the vein running along his shaft. I kick aside my clothes and wrap a leg over his hip. In one vicious jab, he’s buried to the hilt. All the way. Every glorious inch of him.
He pounds into me. My back thumps against the door with each thrust. I don’t care who hears my cries. Our harsh breathing fills the room. The slide and drag of his cock through my slick flesh brings me to the edge within minutes. I try to memorize every facet of him—the scent of his cologne, the grunts he makes, the silkiness of his hair in my clutching hands. When the landing gear touches down, those memories are all I’ll have left of him. A tear rolls down my cheek at the exact instant my orgasm unfurls. Nicky drives deep inside me and shudders.
Someone knocks on the door. The flight attendant’s voice is inches away from my head. “Sir, we need you to take your seats, please.”
“Be right there.” Nicky’s voice breaks. He rests his forehead against mine, chest heaving, his hands still clutching my hips.
I can’t bear to look at him because this is it. The end of us. I’m not sure when he became a part of me. It happened so stealthily that I didn’t notice until this very moment, and now it’s too late.
He backs up, tucks himself away, and smooths his hair. I grab my clothes and shimmy into them, avoiding his gaze. A dozen heartbeats later, we’re buckled into our seats on separate sides of the plane. The wheels skip and catch on the runway. This nightmare is over. I should be ecstatic, but I’m not. A sense of loss ruins everything.
A limousine waits on the tarmac. The driver opens the door. I hesitate. The longer I wait, the more painful this is going to be. I need to rip off the bandage. “Um, I can just catch a cab.”
“Nonsense.” With a hand on my back, Nicky nudges me forward.
“No. Really.” I muster a weak smile. Black sunglasses obscure his gray eyes, but I can feel his gaze on me. I hold out a hand to shake. “Thank you for everything.”
“How are you going to pay for a cab? You don’t have any money.” When he doesn’t shake my offered hand, I let it drop to my side. An amused smirk twitches his lips. The ice in his gaze turns his gray irises to steel. He’s back to the cool, sardonic man I met at the bar last month. My captor. My savior. My love.
“I’ll manage.” I try to brush past him, but he steps in front of me.
“Here.” He removes the money clip from his inside jacket pocket and peels off several hundreds.
“I don’t want your money.” Panic is growing inside me. I need to get away from him before I embarrass myself with tears or pleading.
“Don’t be stubborn. Just take it.” He ignores my protests and tucks the cash into the cleavage revealed by my tank top. “It’s the least I can do. You’ll need cab money at the very least.”
“Thanks.” Conflicting emotions expand in my chest. I’m ready to move forward with my life, but I know I’ll never see him again. Now that the moment has arrived, the truth is even more painful than anticipated. I back away. Force a smile that I don’t feel. “See ya.”
“Right. See ya.” He echoes my casual tone. I walk toward the terminal door. After a dozen heartbeats, the car door closes, and
the motor revs. I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder. I can’t. If I do, I’ll run back to the limo and beg him to take me with him.
Outside the airport, I sit on the bench at the bus stop and stare into space through watery eyes. After the brightness of the Caribbean, the city seems dingy and beige. I try to formulate a plan. Once I find a cheap motel, I’ll need a phone, some clothes, and a job. The money Nicky gave me won’t go far. My bus pulls up to the curb. Right behind it is Nicky’s limo. My heart gives an awkward lurch. He exits the car and strides toward me with the smoldering intensity I’ve come to adore. “Get in the car, Jones.”
“What?”
“Just do it.” He lowers his sunglasses, giving me a glimpse of his thick-lashed gray irises. “You’re staying with me.”
Twenty-Five
Calliope
“It’s perfect.” The saleswoman circles me, adjusting the seams of the little black dress to her liking.
On the way to his apartment, Nicky insisted on visiting a few shops to pick up clothes. This is our third stop. He sits in a highbacked blue velvet chair in the fitting room, a glass of champagne in his left hand and a tray of caviar on the table at his right. The saleswoman bats her lashes at him. “Do you like it, Nicky?”
I don’t want to know why he’s on a first-name basis with all the women in these shops, but I can guess. His gaze crawls over my breasts, the cutouts exposing my waistline, and my bare thighs below the short hemline. The intense scrutiny heightens my embarrassment and creates a funny twinge between my legs. “It’s okay. What do you think, Calliope?”
“I don’t like it.” I fidget, shifting to get away from the scratchy fabric. “It’s too tight in the boobs.”
“Hm…I see what you mean.” He leans back in the chair. “Bring us something else. Something dazzling.”
“I think I have just the thing.” The woman gestures to her assistant who wheels in a rack filled with more designs. “This just came in today.”
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